Hyacinth House
by juliadream
Summary: High school sucks. It just sucks. But when you're moving this fast, the only way to get through it is to hold on. That's why when Sebastian Moran finds Jim Moriarty, he doesn't let go.
1. Chapter 1

"If we change the 63th nucleotide from adenine to cytosine, and the process of transcription copies it as guanine, then the instructions will be given for the amino acid tyrosine to build the protein instead of phenoline..."

"Silence," the slimmer boy sneered, stopping abruptly. The younger obeyed, awaiting his next instruction. "I'm sure that someone's following me." The slimmer boy stooped, pretending to tie his shoe, and gave a cursory glance at his surroundings.

He immediately noticed the blonde teenager in the dark hoodie and ripped jeans quickly ducking into the bookstore on the opposite side of the street, a dozen yards down.

He quickly stood and dashed towards the store, leaving the other boy to take off his glasses in confusion.

The boy, dark hair and still dressed in his school uniform, slid into the store, blending in. No one so much as glanced his way. He quickly spotted the other boy, examining an H. G. Wells book.

"You wouldn't like that one,"the shorter boy said, peering over the other's shoulder, "the ending's too predictable." The blonde boy jumped, and the book clattered as it hit the ground.

"I'm James," he said, "and I'm wondering who you are." The blonde boy hesitated.

"Sebastian Moran," he finally said, his voice rough. James cut right to the chase.

"I've seen you around," James continued, slowly orbiting Sebastian until they were face to face. "School, mostly. You play lacrosse." Sebastian stood up straighter, attempting to use his height advantage to intimidate the smaller boy. He failed.

"Your turn," James urged. "Explain why you've been following me."

"Well, you looked dreary." James blinked. If he was surprised, he hid it in the depths of his persona.

"Why would that concern you?"

"A mind like yours, you don't want to see what it can do when it's dreary." James turned away. He was disappointed. He thought maybe, just maybe, there was one kid left in the entire school who hadn't heard of the prodigy named James Moriarty. But his disappointment was fleeting.

"Also, you hang out with Brian all day. /That can't be much fun," Sebastian continued. James chuckled, low, catching Sebastian off guard. Truthfully, the taller boy wasn't sure James had it in him.

"True. Brian bothers me. I need a brand new friend, who doesn't bother me."

"Well, I'm having a couple guys from the team over later today. Wanna come?" James pondered his answer. Why the hell would he want to spend his afternoon with a bunch of sweaty jocks, making small talk?

At that moment, the door bust open, and a short boy with buck teeth and crooked glasses stormed in.

"Jamie?" he asked, looking around. Jim grimaced.

"Alright, Sebastian. I'll be there at six."

Brian had gone home in tears that night, after James calmly explained every single detail as to why he would never amount to anything.

"You're terrible at public speaking," James had said, "and your leadership skills are atrocious. Your view on genetics is askew and riddled with potholes, and Rosalind Franklin already detailed your thesis, /half a decade ago." If one good thing came out of that night, it was James never having to deal with that creep ever again.

Sebastian had witnessed the entire event. He had done nothing to stop it. Of course, Brian could be a tad bit annoying, but he did not deserve the wrath of James Moriarty. Simultaneously, Sebastian knew it was not his place to interfere. This feud was between James and Brian, and getting caught in the crosshairs meant feeding the tiger Sebastian kept well-hidden. He couldn't risk it.

After Brian had fled, he turned to James and clocked him upside the head.

"Why the hell do you act like that?" he asked. James took a moment to form a coherent answer, still a little woozy.

"To please the lions."

Sebastian didn't ask any more questions after that.

"A couple of friends" turned out to be four, and three of them didn't show up. As Sebastian explained, two of them had had their weed confiscated and were currently under house arrest, and the other one was home studying.

"If Nate fails chemistry, he won't be able to play any sports. And he's our goalie," Sebastian had explained with a grin. "No one else on the team is crazy enough to take /that position."

When Dominick had entered the room to see none other than James Moriarty hanging his legs over the side of the chair across from Sebastian, the first words out of his mouth had been, "why is this creep here?" Sebastian had almost punched him for his snide comment, but James responded before things climaxed.

"I need a brand new friend who doesn't trouble me." Dominick looked at him like he was a hand grenade with the pin pulled out.

"Alright," Dominick said, before collapsing in the only open seat left.

James sat silently on the couch while Sebastian and Dominick tossed around a lacrosse ball. James' eyes followed not the ball but the boys' movements, reflexively cradling the ball to secure it in the pocket before sending it sailing back across the room.

"I heard Shawny's pretty good, they have a five-oh so far," Dominick said.

"It's because the captain's father pays the wages of the ref," Jim said absent-mindedly. The ball hit the wall with a thud before hitting Sebastian on the side of the head.

"Ow," he said, rubbing his temple, "what was that for?"

"I fucking knew it," Dominick said, completely ignoring Sebastian.

"How'd you know that?" Sebastian inquired, lightly tossing the ball back to Dominick. James turned to the blonde-haired boy.

"It's amazing what a few minutes of research can yield," he said. "For example. Dominick," he said, turning to the other boy, "a watched pot never boils." Dominick flushed.

"What is it?" Sebastian asked, feeling isolated.

"His eyes keep straying to his phone," James explained. "He's worried about someone. There's a tan line on his wrist where a piece of jewelry used to be, probably of sentimental value due to the fact that you are definitely not the jewelry-wearing type, which means he recently pawned something off. Pawned it off for quick cash, to pay off someone else's debts. Drug money, perhaps? He's worried about a certain /someone's addiction. It's not one of his friends, he's accustomed to their habits. It's not a girlfriend, he hasn't sent or received any texts. Which leaves the only option, a younger sibling." Dominick was pale as a sheet at this point.

Sebastian briefly wondered exactly what James' thought process was, before his thoughts returned to his teammate.

"Is it Tommy?" Seb asked. Dominick slowly nodded. James opened his mouth, and caught wind of Sebastian's death glare.

"There's still time. Go home to him," James said quietly. Dominick stood up hastily and fled the room. The sound of the front door slamming shut, followed by the sound of an engine revving as the emotional teenage driver raced home.

Sebastian let out a breath of air.

"For a minute there, I thought you were going to say something positively nasty," he commented.

"I was," James answered.

"Then what stopped you?" James looked down at the discarded lacrosse stick.

"How are you going to bring two of those to school tomorrow?" he asked, avoiding the question.

"I'll stick one of them in my bag. I do it all the time. Now tell me what's up." James was amused. He had only really known this boy a few hours, and Sebastian was already able to pick up on James's mood swings better than his own parents.

"Whatever do you mean, dear Sebastian?" The blonde boy rolled his eyes. The ball thudded as Sebastian threw it against the wall repeatedly, deprived of a partner.

"You know very freaking well what I mean," Seb said. James feigned innocence, curling up in the giant armchair he was seated in. Sebastian glanced at him, noticing how the boy eerily made himself appear so much younger in such a simple action.

"Are you really going to make me guess?" Seb said. James was still silent. "Oh, come on, I don't know /that much about you!"

James didn't asked how much he knew.

"Please," he said instead, "tell me exactly what /you think makes me so...what did you call it? Dreary?"

"Well, that's a bit obvious, isn't it?" Sebastian asked, not skipping a beat. "James Moriarty is just so great and talented and successful that no one will just let him be him." The pounding ceased. "It's enough to make anyone bleary." James was silent. He wanted to allow Sebastian a few moments to think he was stunned into silence.

"That's a very good guess, beleive me," James finally said, "but not quite right." He stopped, letting Sebastian formulate another guess.

"Ya know, James doesn't suit you very well," Sebastian said. "It sounds like an old english duke, and occupation that I'm sure would not suit you at all. And Jamie sounds too juvenile. I have a cousin named Jamie, you know? He's six years old. Last time he came to visit, he spilled chocolate syrup all over the carpet. You can hardly see it now, but it drove my dad mad." Sebastian smiled at the memory, looking fondly at the pale fuzz. "He's quite the little dickens."

"Well, what else would you call me?" James asked, amused at Sebastian's sudden interest.

"How about Jim?" James sat up, obviously pleased.

"Jim Moriarty," Sebastian continued. "That has a nice ring to it."

"I like it," Jim said.

"It's a new you."

"I need a brand new friend, who doesn't need me," Jim said, watching as the corners of Sebastian's mouth broadened.

"What's all this talk of brand new friends? And I think I qualify for that position," he said, tossing the ball at Jim lightly. He was surprised when the boy's hand snaked through the air, catching it just before it would have hit him in the chest.

"I need a brand new friend, in the end."


	2. Chapter 2

"Seb, please?"

"No, Jim, it's two in the morning and we have school in five hours." Sebastian retorted, rolling his eyes. Jim scoffed.

"I'm sorry not all of us can function on 30 minutes of sleep each day," Sebastian added, sighing. His parents were out cold, and he knew from experience only could be woken by a volcanic eruption, and definitely not the sounds of the random movie Jim had picked out of the cabinet in the corner.

"What did you even pick?" Sebastian inquired.

"Oh, just some American slasher movie." Sebastian was quiet for a moment.

"So you're staying the night, then?" He asked.

"No, I'm just on my way out," Jim drawled sarcastically. Sebastian didn't say a word. That was the fourth time this week that.

"Please, Seb?" lilted a surprisingly small voice. Sebastian took a moment, weighing his options. A movie might put them both to sleep, and the one Jim had picked out was particularly mentally scarring. Sebastian did like the thought of a terrified Jim clinging to him.

"Alright. Just let me get changed," Sebastian agreed. Jim looked at him. They were both dressed in their school uniforms. Jim had loosened his tie while Sebastian had thrown it off, and they both had thrown their blazers in a crumpled heap and rolled up their shirtsleeves. Jim claimed to abhor the uniforms, but Sebastian suspected that it secretly pleased the kid to see them both looking so sharp.

Sebastian padded upstairs and quickly disrobed, throwing on a holey Black Sabbath t-shirt and sweats. He stopped in the bathroom to take a piss and brush his teeth before heading back downstairs.

"Alright, Jim, let me - " Jim turned to look at him. Sebastian blinked.

"Jim, is that my fucking shirt?"

"Oh course, Sebby, I don't have any clothes here." His voice was dripping with innocence. Sebastian had to admit, the usually menacing kid looked pretty freaking cuddly in boxers and his Bee Gees tee (why did he still even have that shirt? Sebastian had never really listened to them. When had Jim found the time to dig it out of his drawer?)

"Alright. Lemme see whatever the hell it is you pulled." Jim tossed the disc at Sebastian, who caught it and stuck it in the player. He dimmed the lights and hit play before curling up on the couch. Jim stretched, arching his back like a cat, and fell onto his side, putting his head right on Sebastian's lap. Sebastian shifted uncomfortably.

"Jim?" Sebastian prodded, wanting to point out that the couch was L-shaped and more than big enough for the both of them.

"Mh, hmm?" Jim murmured.

"Nothing, babe." Maybe this wasn't the worst thing in the world. It certainly ranked above asking Jim to move and missing the warmth of the kid.

The screen lit up, and the opening credits rolled. Images of rumpled diary pages filled the screen, and the word Se7en flashed across the screen. Jim yawned sleepily. If he falls asleep, Sebastian thought, I'm turning this shit off.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Jim shifted his head, and Sebastian almost jumped out of his skin.

Halfway through, Sebastian had started to nervously run his fingers through Jim's hair as a distraction. When the next body was found, he almost ripped out a chunk. He didn't miss Jim's grin of satisfaction.

In the last few minutes of the movie, Sebastian had guessed what was in the box. He still grabbed Jim's arm when he saw it, his knuckles whitening.

"Sebby, that hurts," the teenager whined. The hand loosened, leaving half-moon scars on Jim's pale arm. Sebastian looked down at his with eyes the size of saucers.

"Don't you ever fucking turn out like that, okay, you little psychopath?" Sebastian demanded. The way he said 'psychopath' made the word more like a term of endearment than a mental disorder.

"Seb, don't be obvious," Jim insisted, "I'd never be so sloppy. I'd get someone else to do the dirty work." Sebastian groaned.

"Someone like me?" he asked.

"Hmm... maybe. It depends."

Sebastian wasn't sure whether or not he liked that answer.

"I didn't like that ending at all," Sebastian criticized. "Why would he turn himself in at the end? Just to toy with that stupid little detective? I'll never understand Americans."

"You missed the point of the entire movie," Jim contended. "What's the fun of the game if you can't play?"

"Alright, ya git," Sebastian jeered, "just promise me you'd never do anything so...obvious."

"Alright, tiger."

"I can sleep on the floor," Sebastian offered. At this point, he was just going through the motions. Jim glared at him.

"Alright," Sebastian sighed. He climbed under the sheets, and felt Jim wiggle next to him. Sebastian thought of the the second death in the movie, the one where the man was chained to his bed and just barely kept alive for over a year. Jim snuggled up next to him, and Seb gripped him a little bit tighter. His thoughts wandered over to that damn movie again, and he ran his fingers though the short dark hair of Jim's head.

"I'm not going to end up like that psycho," Jim mumbled.

"But - " Sebastian protested.

"I have you, tiger." Sebastian relaxed minisculely and buried his nose in Jim's hair. He was still uneasy.

"You planned this, didn't you? So that I'd - " Sebastian mused.

"Yes. Now hush. As you pointed out, there's only an hour before we have to get up again."

"We could just play hooky, like you do every week." He felt Jim smile against his side, and Jim threw an arm possessively around his torso.

"You totally planned this."


	3. Chapter 3

When he opened his eyes, he just assumed he was dreaming. Which was not unreasonable.

Only when he heard that fucking voice, too complex and perfect for his mind to replicate, did he realize he wasn't.

But he was not at all surprised.

"Morning, sunshine," Jim sang. Sebastian caught sight of scrawny limbs sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed.

"You weren't here when I went to sleep last night," Seb noted. Jim rolled his eyes, unamused.

"You should really lock your windows. Too easy for someone to break in," Jim continued, bounding up and across the room. Seb groaned and rolled over, not at caring the slightest bit about the crusty saliva he was smearing all over his pillow.

"You're the only one who's ever broken in," he noted. "Maybe I should start locking them." He didn't have to raise his head to feel the scowl on the younger boy's face.

Sebastian never understood how the other boy could run on three hours of sleep and still rise like a balloon every morning.

"School?" he groaned.

"Look outside, dullness." Sebastian chose to ignore Jim's version of a pet nickname. He lifted his eyes to the window behind him. The air was swimming, like static in an old film. It was too bright outside for six in the morning.

He concluded that the sun must have been reflecting off the surface of the snow.

"Snow day?" he asked. He felt like a small child, sophomorically asking his parents if he can open a window and catch the ice flakes on his tongue.

"Yes, Seb. But I must admit, it takes all the fun out of playing hooky."

Sebastian had half a mind to just close his eyes and drift off into silent comfort. However, at that moment, a new thought decided to force its way into his cranium, startling him awake the exact same way a soft lullaby wouldn't.

Sebastian castigated himself for not paying more attention. He bolted upright, encircling his fingers around Jim's wrist. He tried not to cringe as he found he could easily touch his finger to his littlest finger, vowing to force some food into the kid.

The pale skin was clammy at best.

"How exactly did you get here?" Seb asked, not releasing his death grip.

"How I always get here; I walked."

"Jim. It's snowing outside, and you live four streets away."

"I walked fast. And it was brisk at best." Sebastian, for the first time that morning, observed Jim. He saw a young boy clad in a gray hoodie and jeans and soaked to the bone looking, wearing an expression that could easily be mistaken for one who has been slightly inconvenienced; like there's a mysterious surcharge at the ATM, or he's opened the cupboard to find that he's run out of coffee grounds.

Sebastian let go of the wrist, circling around and digging some rumpled clothes out of his dresser and throwing them at the boy.

"Change," he commanded. Jim rolled his eyes before stripping off his sweatshirt and replacing it with the new one. His hands hovered just above his belt for a moment before raising a single finger and moving it in a circle.

"No. You broke into my fucking house during a snowstorm, I am going to make damn well sure you get dressed," Sebastian barked. Jim glared at him as he shed his pants and put on the new ones.

"Now, we are going to go downstairs and you are going to eat some motherfucking pancakes because if you don't, I will break your wrist," Sebastian snapped.

"That's enough orders for one day," Jim said coldly. Regardless, he rose and followed Sebastian down the hall.

"Fine. Will you please have something to eat?" Sebastian tried, heating up the griddle and grabbing the ingredients as Jim sat on the kitchen counter. His head just brushed the hanging light fixture, the one that was cracked.

Jim wrinkled his nose, and shook his head.

"At least consider it," Sebastian said. He had no problem with the cooking and cleaning and altogether caretaking when it came to his friend, but he was at least going to make sure the little shitface didn't starve himself to death.

Sebastian let out a heavy breath of air.

"I bought that freaking jam you insist on keeping, the apricot one," he said, cracking one egg and another before grabbing some milk.

"...And the Sicilian bread?"

"Yes, and the Sicilian bread. Just for you." There was hesitation. All that could be heard was the sizzling of the butter on the griddle, and a faintly nutty aroma.

"I guess I could have a piece. As long as you put chocolate chips in the pancakes." Sebastian tried to hide a grin.

"I will put hot sauce in the pancakes if it makes you eat them," (if it makes you happy,) Sebastian insisted.

"No. That's disgusting. That would make you happy." Sebastian grinned and grabbed four different kinds of chocolate chips and a bag of M&Ms, dumping them all in the batter until it was unrecognizable. He knew about Jim's giant ass sweet tooth, and was not afraid to exploit this knowledge.

"Smells delightful," Jim said a few minutes later.

"Really? These are the most disgusting pancakes I've ever made."

"Nonsense. Remember last week, when you decided to use the smoke alarm as a timer? Those were inedible."

"Well, I'm sorry that all my cooking experience comes from a one-semester course I took three years ago."

"And failed," Jim reminded him.

"Only because you were my partner, and decided to burn your homework when we were making bananas foster."

"The papers had it coming. They were suggesting I actually intended to learn something." Sebastian winced as he felt small arms attempt to pin down his own, and a cold body flush against his own. He turned down the stove, and wriggled around in Jim's grasp.

"Cold?" he asked, rubbing Jim's arms for friction. He heard a hum of agreement come from somewhere below his chin.

"Next time, call and I'll pick you up," Sebastian said. He heard something suspiciously like "too predictable," and decided to ignore it.

All his life, Sebastian had been repeatedly bent and broken. By absent parents, by malicious schoolteachers, by chastising classmates. And by Jim.

But sometimes Sebastian wondered. Wondered why he made disgusting pancakes at six o'clock in the morning, why he insisted on making sure the kid got dressed, why he held him when he was shivering due to his own dementia.

At that moment, he realized what it was. Yes, he sure as hell had been bent and broken by Jim. But this time, it had been - he hoped - into a new shape.


	4. Chapter 4

(Fri 11:37pm)

Jim

(Fri 11:39pm)

JiMM

(Fri 11:40pm)

JimMMiny CRICKet

(Fri 11:41pm)

Yes, Sebastian?

(Fri 11:42pm)

Guess whAT

(Fri 11:44pm)

You're at a party. And you're inebriated.

(Fri 11:47pm)

No, I'm just pretending to be inebriated to piss you off. Is it working?

(Fri 11:52pm)

You should come over

(Fri 11:53pm)

No, thank you. Remember what happened at the last party I attended?

(Fri 11:55m)

You tried to light the dog on fire?

(Fri 11:55pm)

I SUCEEDED in lighting the dog on fire.

(Fri 11:57pm)

But there are no dogs at this party, just really cute girls

(Fri 11:58pm)

Aren't you afraid I'd light one on fire?

(Sat 12:00am)

No, I trust you

(Sat 12:01am)

That is a mistake on your part, Moran

(Sat 12:06am)

Oh, breaking out the last names. You mean business.

(Sat 12:09am)

Just go back to your beer pong.

(Sat 12:11am)

Too late. I left a few minutes ago.

(Sat 12:17am)

That's great; save yourself a few brain cells.

(Sat 12:22am)

You are a horrible person.

(Sat 12:26am)

Finally, you've realized. Now will you just leave me alone?

(Sat 12:29am)

Not a chance. I'm a horrible person, too. And I've just made a truly horrible decision.

(Sat 12:33am)

Really? Was leaving that drunken orgy really that fallacious of a decision?

(Sat 12:34am)

That's not what I'm talking about.

(Sat 12:35am)

Look outside.

(Sat 12:40am)

Dear lord, there's a murderer in my backyard.

(Sat 12:41am)

…arsehole. Now let me in, it's pouring.

(Sat 12:41am)

No.

(Sat 12:42am)

WHAT THE FUCK

(Sat 12:43am)

You don't have a change of clothes, and you're not allowed to walk around my house and drip water everywhere.

(Sat 12:44am)

Oh really? What if you bring me a towel, and I leave my clothes outside?

(Sat 12:48am)

…all of them?

(Sat 12:49am)

Yes.

(Sat 12:49am)

I can manage that.

(Sat 12:50am)

Thank GOD. Now LET ME IN

(Sat 12:51am)

Not with that attitude.

(Sat 12:52am)

Fine. Please?

(Sat 12:52am)

Hmm…getting closer

(Sat 12:53am)

Come on, I've already begun to disrobe.

(Sat 12:55am)

All the more reason to keep you waiting.

(Sat 12:56am)

Oh, really?

-One Photo Attachment-

(Sat 12:56am)

On my way


	5. Chapter 5

/Should I stay or should I go now?

Should I stay or should I go now?

If I go there will be trouble

An' if I stay it will be double

So come on and let me know/

Jim reached for the ringing phone with his right hand, mentally berating himself for leaving his phone out where a certain someone could find it and easily change his ringtone, not removing his left from the .22RL.

"Seb," he said, not needing to even glance at the screen. Only a few people had his number, and only one had the nerve to call it.

"Where the fuck are you?" spat the voice on the other line.

"Now, no need to swear. I'm sure you'll find me." He heard panting on the other line, and figured Sebastian must have been climbing the countless flights of stairs.

The only sound that Jim could hear was the sound of the gun clocking.

He swung his legs over the side of the window seat, facing the door just as it burst open to reveal a red-faced Sebastian.

Jim let his phone drop from his grip, knowing it was unlikely he'd ever use it again.

"Freeze," he commanded as Sebastian attempted to dash across the tiny flat. Sebastian halted.

"You little shit," the blonde boy growled. Jim smiled. He knew Seb only cursed when he was distraught.

Sebastian realized that Jim probably knew his intentions. Truthfully, Sebastian was hysterical at the sight of Jim casually holding a gun to the place where his jaw met his neck. He decided to take a more casual approach, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

He threw his arms out to his side, shrugging, then let them drop before resting them in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," Jim said, "everything is just so tedious. I'm just not interesting anymore." Sebastian lifted one hand, pointing it accusingly at the boy across the room.

The light from the window illuminated him from behind. Sebastian shuttered, thinking that he was looking from the perfect angle to see Jim as a stark angel.

A car passed by, momentarily blocking the path of light and shattering the illusion. Sebastian no longer saw Jim as omnipotent, as clairvoyant or otherworldly. He saw Jim for what he really was - a boy, on the brink of adulthood, who had been dealt a pile of shit instead of a good hand, and was tired of living with it.

Sebastian realized a few things at that moment.

The first was that Jim had picked out that room's wallpaper, a pale yellow, and that it would never be purified of the spatters of red Jim was about to create.

The second was that Jim really needed to clean up his shit, it was scattered all over Seb's apartment.

As for the last thing, Sebastian would never share it with another soul.

Well, maybe just this once.

"Listen here, you little shit," he said, slowly taking a step forward. Jim gazed at him lazily, not at all threatened, and Sebastian continued.

"Let me just make a few things clear. You are damn intelligent, valuable as hell, and not the least bit worthless. You are super fucking loved, extremely goddamn interesting, not to mention a hot piece of ass. Have I made myself clear?" Jim remained adamant.

"That's not enough," Jim said quietly. He wasn't afraid, not really.

"Jim," Sebastian said through gritted teeth, "if you pull that trigger, I swear, I'll ruin myself." Jim raise one eyebrow inquisitively. "I'll start smoking - I can legally buy them, now. I'll drink myself into a coma. I'll drop out of school, and take to the streets. I'll share needles with the homeless, and slowly starve in the cold." He saw a flicker of something, he wasn't quite sure what, pass through Jim's features.

"Jim," he concluded, "if you go, I will follow you." Jim looked down, his eyes searching through the clutter of discarded clothes lying across the floor. He never could be bothered to pick up after himself.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, not lifting his gaze.

"Because I motherfucking love you, okay?" Jim heard the sound of hesitant footsteps cross the floor, and felt a warm hand placed over his, moving away the gun.

The memory of cold steel pressed against his jawline was soon demolished in the presence of warm lips.


	6. Chapter 6

"No. No, you can't. I forbid it." Even as the words left Jim's mouth, he realized how silly they sounded. Here he was, standing in a puddle in front of his best friend, trying to control his life.

But Sebastian understood. He knew, with an infallible certainty, that this was more than just a temper-tantrum, that this was real and bad and hurting Jim more than he can even imagine.

Sebastian ran his hand through Jim's dark hair. Jim swatted it away, and he flinched.

"Jim, I'm sorry. But this is something that I have to do."

Jim was silent. He was torn between inching closer on the couch to Sebastian, allowing himself to be enveloped and comforted, and bolting out of the family room.

In the end, he decided to do neither.

For the past year, Sebastian's house had been his home. He was going to stand his ground, like a good soldier does.

"Admit it," Sebastian said. Not knowing what to do with his hands anymore, obviously not being allowed to touch Jim, he awkwardly folded them into his lap. "I'm going to be a kick-ass soldier."

"No!" Jim shrieks, jumping off the leather. "You _would_ have been a kick-ass soldier! But you are never going to be. The army, it's going to take you away from me! Don't you understand?"

Sebastian was silent. He knew this would have happened, he had spent an hour and a half staring at himself in the mirror and preparing different answers for the question that Jim would eventually ask. But now that Jim's asked it, Sebastian discovered that he lacked an answer.

"Yeah, Jim," he whispered, "I understand."

Jim threw his hands in the air. He was prepared to yell, to scream, to argue. He had a million and one reasons as to why his best friend should stay, safe and sound, to keep on breathing. To watch bad slasher movies with him, to cook him pancakes. To text him during parties, to crash his house at one in the morning. To take his finger off the trigger.

He knew that eventually, with enough begging and bartering, he'd wear down Sebastian, and get him to stay.

But he also knew that if he did so, there would always be a glint in Sebastian's eyes, a longing for the war. A sense of fulfillment.

And Jim couldn't bring himself to be the cause of that.

Sebastian would never confront him about it, he may never even _realize _what it is. But Jim would always know.

Jim slid back onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. He turned to face Sebastian.

"Promise me you'll always try," he said finally.

Sebastian didn't have to ask what.

To try to learn something useful.

To try to make connections.

To try to fulfill his longings.

To try to survive.

And to try to find Jim when he came home.

"Yeah, I promise." Jim reached over, finally allowing contact, and took Sebastian's hand.

"If you die, I will skin you alive."

"And if you get yourself killed before I make it home, I will piss on your grave." Jim allowed himself a smile, one last glint into his former self.

Sebastian was to leave tomorrow. He really cut it close, waiting until the very last moment to tell Jim the news.

Jim knew – when Sebastian left for the war, he wouldn't be the only one going through a transition.

It's not just that Sebastian wouldn't have Jim to keep him from falling, but Jim wouldn't have Sebastian to keep him from floating away.

Because that's always what happens to people like Jim – eventually, they spend so long looking at the clouds, building themselves up higher and higher, when they finally get around to looking back down, they realize that can't see the ground anymore.

"I'm sorry, Jim."

"No. Don't apologize."

"I love you, but this is the way I am."

Silence, for a while.

Jim had to resist the urge to chuckle. How many times had he pulled the same line? When he had ditched Sebastian for Sherlock, when he had explained his budding criminal network, when he had acknowledged that his life expectancy would be considerably shorter in his line of work.

And Sebastian had always understood. Sebastian had always accepted it.

Now it was finally Jim's turn.

"I love you too, tiger." He pressed a kiss against Sebastian's cheek, cuddling closer into his side. "Promise me you'll show me your scars when you get home?"

Sebastian grinned.

"I'll make sure to get some especially gruesome ones, just for you."

Jim stands awkwardly at Sebastian's side. The campus is filled with other young men, each carrying standard-issue duffle bags and hurrying to find their dorms.

Jim gives Sebastian a final hug.

For the first time in a very long while, Jim had no idea what to say.

"Don't worry," Sebastian said, "I'm not going off to war just yet. I get to come home for a few days in November, for Thanksgiving. There's also Winter, Spring, and Summer breaks." He offered Jim a tight smile. "We'll get to see lots of each other."

Jim does not return the gesture.

_But what if I need you? _He thinks. _What if I get bored with studying, and decide to blow up the lab? What if I go out drinking and get utterly sloshed? What if I need someone to call me, to take the gun away?_

"I'll see you when you get home," Jim said. He saluted one last time, turned, and made his way back to the parking lot.

The farewell left him with an empty feeling boiling in his stomach, and he didn't want to think too hard about all the things he could have said.

He drove in silence, trying to ignore the smell of cologne radiating from the passenger seat of his car.

If he thought too much, he might do something drastic.

"Hello?"

_"Jim?" _ A sharp inhale.

"Tiger." _Oh, god. There's only one reason he'd be calling. I can't I can't I can't_

_"I'm afraid I've got some bad news." I fucking knew it why couldn't he just _

"Spit it out." A laugh crackles through Jim's speaker.

_"Ah, patient as ever, I see. Listen, something's happened."_

"What is it?"

_"I've been…observed, let's call it. I won't be allowed to come home this month. Or next month, or in the spring, or in the summer."_

Silence.

"Are they shipping you out?"

_"Yes. In a week."_

"But why? This is only you're first year."

_"I'm sorry. This is my fault. I promised you I'd try, and it looks like I've tried a little too hard. I'm at the top of my class already, and rising fast. They want to put a sniper in my hands. I guess all that COD paid off."_

"No. Tell them you can't do it."

_"Jim…"_

"NO! Just come home!"

_"Jim. You're smart. Think this through."_

"What are you trying to say? I realize that if you go now, you'll come back sooner. I know that if you get this training, you can use it for my network. I am AWARE that this means you are well on your way to becoming one of the most dangerous men in London. But GUESS WHAT, MORAN? I DON'T WANT IT."

_"Jim, I'm doing this for you."_

"No. Don't do this for me. Come home for me. Stay alive for me."

_"Fine, then. I'm doing this for me."_

More silence. Jim was counting the number of breaths he could hear from the other line, not knowing if he'd ever get the chance to hear them again.

"I want you to promise me."

_"I promise."_ Jim cracked a smile.

"I'll be waiting for you to get back. I'll be holding the sign that says 'tiger.'" He heard a laugh on the other end. He could tell that it was beginning to crack, to reveal the desperation lurking just below.

"Now go get 'em, tiger."


End file.
